


Chemistry

by Scedasticity



Series: Alchemy [2]
Category: Shadow Unit
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scedasticity/pseuds/Scedasticity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemistry

Magnum Opus, I

...There is no supernatural, because if something is real, then it is natural. Some things are unexplained or not understood. Some things are unconfirmed; some things are imaginary. But if it's real, then it's natural, and it all comes down to chemistry in the end...  
 _(Alberta Aldrich, Personal Statement, Application for Admission)_

***

Filtration, under Scorpio

[Excerpts from a summary report]

_...At 1:08 am, November 23rd, there was a 911 call saying that there was a loud party with underage drinking and drug use. ... [Police] discovered Bradley Tate (17) and Jim Meisner (18), both with chemical burns believed to be of anomalous origin._

_Tate was injured by a mixture of beer, nitric acid, and trace amounts of graphite. It was poured or thrown directly into his face... He sustained partial-thickness chemical burns... [and] permanent damage to his vision._

_Meisner was injured by a higher concentration of nitric acid, without beer... It appears the acid was in a plastic screw-top bottle in his pants pocket... The acid saturated his clothing, which he was unable to remove. He sustained [varying thickness] burns to... pelvic region (including genitals) and right hip, buttocks, and thigh._  
...  
While these injuries are serious, it is important to note that the scene was strongly suggestive of interrupted sexual assault. ... In short, there is good reason to believe the acid attack was actually self-defense. The presence of a third party in the room at the time of the attack was confirmed by a stain of mixed blood and saliva... The (female) DNA was not in the system, and did not match any of the [identified] female party attendees...  
...  
The second group of incidents occurred over the next six months at Hillview Area High School. Five explosions involving bananas were reported to the local police; there were also three occasions where it appeared a banana had exploded without witnesses.  
...  
Four out of the five observed explosions were timed and located so as to guarantee plentiful witnesses. The remaining observed explosion... occurred immediately outside the central administration office. Apparent results of banana explosions were found... The results were messy, but caused no serious property damage and no injuries. 

_The direct cause of the banana explosions can currently be given only as 'chemical reaction'. There is no evidence to suggest that any strong acid was involved, nor were any explosive devices found. Apart from the probable anomalous nature of the explosions, the banana incidents are basically high school pranks._

_More costly were a series of incidents involving rapid destruction by rust/corrosion of various school infrastructure and furnishings, many of them corrosion-resistant steel and several of aluminum alloys. ... These were treated as typical equipment failure rather than vandalism, and not further investigated._  
...  
What [the anomalous corrosion incidents] have in common is that they... could easily be the result of boredom. It is noteworthy that [none of the larger targeted objects] were damaged anywhere near what would be necessary for collapse, collapses which could have caused serious injury had they occurred.  
...  
The school remained, and remains, mystified as to the cause of all this. 

_The final and most dramatic [incident] occurred in early June, the last week of the school year._  
...  
At 11:59, a student used the [cafeteria doors] without incident. ... At 12:14, the hinges crumbled and the doors fell over. Due to the... time scale, the school was even more confused.... The school retained the video of the hall at the time of the event, although they were unable to learn anything from it. A series of stills are appended. 

_The school has had no apparently-anomalous incidents since restarting in September. ... [T]he logical conclusion is that the anomalous individual responsible was a graduating senior at Hillview Area High School, sexually assaulted at the November 2008 party._

_The 911 call regarding the party was made by [someone] who did not live or work in the vicinity. Police asked her why she had been in the area; she said her cousin had needed a ride home. Police did not pursue this further. [The caller] has three cousins in the metro area. One of them, Alberta Aldrich (17), was at that time a senior at Hillview Area High School..._

_The video of the collapsing doors at the high school is also suggestive of Aldrich's involvement; we looked into her further._

_Alberta Aldrich is the youngest (by five years) of three siblings in a financially comfortable family. Her parents separated when she was seven. ... [The longest-employed nanny] stated that she believed Alberta Aldrich had been suffering untreated depression._

_The Hillview Area High School guidance counselor ... said that Aldrich was almost certainly a chronic drug user, but was never actually caught at it. Several of her habitual associates were. She was not a diligent student..._  
...  
Aldrich's mother was distant and uninvolved, not responding to repeated contact from the school regarding her daughter's conduct.  
...  
Following the November 2008 incident, Aldrich's behavior at school [improved] markedly. ... Aldrich's primary interest was still chemistry, previously the only class in which her performance could be described as good. 

_There are several aspects of the Aldrich case inconsistent with typical anomalous presentation. Most obvious is the drop from serious injury to vandalism and pranks. ...[I]t is possible that Aldrich attacked other victims... [but] it seems unlikely. There have been no incidents within the family, despite problematic relationships._

_Second, no one noticed a sudden weight drop. They were aware of Aldrich's underweight condition, but said she was 'always like that', including her eating habits..._

_Thirdly, when in elementary school, Aldrich was assigned a 'describe yourself' essay... Aldrich wrote about how she did not taste and smell like everyone else, and consequently could not enjoy food like everyone else, but just knew what everything was made of chemically._

_[Other sources] confirmed that she was seldom interested in dessert... [and] could tell if someone had [recently] consumed alcohol... The high school chemistry teacher said Aldrich... identif[ied] chemicals and judg[ed] concentrations, and was more reliable than some of their equipment. ..._

_Aldrich is presently enrolled in... an area technical college, seeking certification as a laboratory assistant... Getting any closer will be more intrusive, but of course much information could be learned from Aldrich's family and Aldrich herself._

_Pending further investigation, we would tentatively classify Aldrich as a beta, with an internal manifestation of hypersensitive smell and hyperawareness of chemical composition, first appearing sometime before adolescence. It appears that being assaulted in November 2008 was the stressor for breakthrough to an external manifestation involving manipulation of chemicals; behavior since suspected conversion is not consistent with that of a gamma._

***

Fermentation, under Capricorn

This is what Karen Saadat knows about Marjorie Aldrich:

Marjorie aspires to be perfect. She doesn't think she _is_ perfect, but she gives herself credit for trying very, very hard. The chances of Marjorie admitting to pathological perfectionism are just about zero. Even if she believed there was such a condition, she couldn't have it, because mental disorders are imperfections.

Marjorie is aware that she lives in an imperfect world. However she feels about it, she makes allowances for it. Expecting everything to be perfect would make it very hard to interact with other people and function in general, and inability to function is, after all, an imperfection.

Marjorie is, on the whole, a good employer. She is scrupulously fair and follows the same rules as everyone else. The work environment is relatively formal, but one of those rules is that everyone be treated with respect. Employee benefits are decent. Sometimes she keeps secrets, but she doesn't lie. The only things keeping her from being a good employer, unqualified, are the string of personal assistants and the longer string of nannies. (Overall, the PAs would describe her as 'demanding and difficult', while the nannies would tend more towards 'crazy bitch'.)

Marjorie recycles. Marjorie subscribes to the _New York Times_ online and keeps aware of national and world affairs. Marjorie votes in every civic election. Marjorie is an excellent driver. She does not cheat on her taxes or fudge her account books. She knows the laws and follows them. (She has, however, chosen to fail to report certain small-scale illegal activities upon discovering them. It is most perfect not to break the law, but if the law is broken, it is more perfect not to get caught.)

Marjorie gives generously to charity. She makes the customary monetary donations, but is also responsible for the local Goodwill's ongoing struggle to develop a policy to deal with donations along the lines of $500 purses with one missing snap or $1000 inlaid coffee tables with a few scratches. (Marjorie doesn't go in for fixing things, and she won't keep them 'broken'. Even when the economy's not so rosy and she's not going to buy a new cashmere sweater, the old one is given away as soon as she notices a tear.)

Marjorie takes pains never to discriminate on the basis of sex, race, creed, or nationality. Mostly she succeeds -- she's never had any complaints, anyway. She employs more prejudgement when it comes to people with disabilities (imperfections), but ensures that reasonable accommodations are made. (Most people think Marjorie is very accepting of homosexuality, unless they know about the blowup over her son and the gymnastics team, in which case they are confused.) (One theory is that she sees it as a disability -- no fault or blame or wrongness attached, reasonable accomodations such as same-sex marriage should be made, but it's an imperfection. It's all right for other people, but not for something of hers.)

Marjorie's family is a part of her. As such, it is supposed to be perfect. Her efforts to perfect her family have not been successful. They have also left her on poor terms and barely speaking with two of her children, including one of the ones who lives with her. When she saw how off-track her son was, she tried to fix him. It didn't work. So she decided errant children are unfixable, and wrote off her youngest as a lost cause.

The one child with whom Marjorie has a functional relationship is the oldest, Lexy. Lexy has always striven to meet every expectation. In high school she was a good student and participated in extra-curricular activities, sociable without being shallow. She went to a good college, graduated with honors, and went on to law school. She strives to excel at everything she does, and mostly succeeds. She drives carefully and reads the newspaper and is very, very responsible.

And every two weeks for the last two and a half years, Lexy has very conscientiously taken the bus (parking is terrible) to a medical office building across downtown to talk to Karen Saadat. She came as a veteran of three and a half years of therapy as an undergraduate, and she came prepared when asked what her goal was for therapy:

"I want to stop needing to be perfect."

The part that goes unspoken is, "Before I start projecting it on other people."

***

Mercury

_That's really quite a lot of NO2. Compared to the usual, that is._

_At first you assume it's nitrogen dioxide, and someone's managing to vent exhaust into the food court somehow. But CO's no worse than usual, and there's not much in the way of excess sulfur, so that doesn't quite make sense. And, you think, the NO2 feels like it might not be alone, exactly._

_One of these. Gas leak is to cow manure as car exhaust is to..._

_You_ reach _. Focus. Not-look. Find what you're smelling._

_Definitely not alone -- the NO2's are glued onto a polymer. Polymers are like poetry, but you know this one by heart -- C6H10O5 (C6H10O5-C6H10O5-C6H10O5-C6H10O5-C6H10O5, so easy to get lost in the refrain) -- cellulose. No, wait -- C3H5OH(OHOH), and that's familiar too, you see it all the time, but you've forgotten the name. Stuck on like that, the NO2's must be subgroups,_ functional groups _is the term. What does an NO2 group do? It feels like you should know._

_It feels like_ nitrocellulose _is maybe a word you should know._

_And_ that _gives you a hint, not-looking at it, and you can work out that adding those NO2s gets you something that will explode._

_Fuck._

_You un-focus and look frantically around the room, like you're expecting a clearly visible stick of dynamite or something. Why the hell would anyone want to blow up the food court? If they're attacking a mall, they could at least go for a department store or something. And, what timing, you catch the smell that means you're low on blood glucose, despite eating three and a half Value Meals (and one banana) in the last forty-five minutes. The remaining french fries have gotten pretty cold, but you stuff five into your mouth anyway as you look around again (cold grease, ugh). What do you do? Tell security you smell explosive stuff? Maybe say there's an unattended parcel? And now there's more NO2 groups, or maybe_ closer _\--_

_"Ms. Aldrich?"_

_You're so startled that you knock over your pop, but one of the people who've snuck up on you catches it before it spills, from the other side of the table. There are three of them -- tall skinny beverage-catching guy and a nondescript woman across the table, and an older guy on your side, just far enough away that he's not looming over you. He has a mild, friendly smile, but he's gotta be dressed too neatly for Exurban Shopping Center #978, and NO2 NO2 NO2--_

_"Are you all right?" he asks._

_"Fine, thanks," you say automatically, even thought you really really aren't. The nitro_ glycerin _, that's it, and nitrocellulose are_ right there _. Who are these people? How in hell do they know you? Who the hell calls you Ms. Aldrich anyway?_

_"My name's Solomon Todd, and those are Chaz Villette and Daphne Worth," he says. He holds out something which turns out to be an ID -- no, a_ badge _. "Don't panic, but we're with the FBI."_

_And maybe you would have been alarmed -- and more so a year or more ago, when who knows what you'd have had on you and your 'friends' could have been up to anything -- but right now the important thing is FBI means cops, cops means guns, guns means gunpowder, gunpowder means explosive stuff means no TRAGEDY AT MALL headlines tomorrow. You slump back in your chair, and if you were Fred you would say you can feel the adrenaline leaving your system. (Since you actually can track your C9H13NO3 if you pay attention, you know it takes a bit longer than_ that _.) "Um, just to make sure -- you are armed, right? Because someone in here is, or maybe has something else with nitroglycerin and nitrocellulose in it."_

_"We are armed," the FBI guy confirms, a little surprised. His name didn't catch, but fortunately his badge is still out. Solomon Todd, that was it. "Supervisory" makes you want to ask him if the children behaved at recess._

_(Dammit, how can you be hungry? Your stomach's so full you think you can't -- literally can't -- eat another bite. Definitely not of cold french fries. You shouldn't have had so much to drink, but you like the little kick from the caffeine.)_

_"You smelled that? The nitroglycerin and nitrocellulose?" asks the tall guy across the table._

_You flush, and cross your arms. "I've always had a good nose," you say, a little defensively, and then wonder if you should have made something up. The tall guy doesn't look like he doesn't believe you, though._

_(Actually, now that you're paying attention, you're not sure the hungry-now signal is coming from_ you _.)_

_"That's -- partially -- why we're here, Ms. Aldrich," Todd says. "May we sit down?"_

_"It's a public food court," you mumble. "And it's Alby." It's definitely not internal, you're not the one with low glucose, your stupid backbrain just thinks that chemical being around means you need to eat. This hasn't happened since you got stuck sitting next to that anorexic girl in eighth grade English -- you skipped that class a lot, although that was also related to "Flowers for Algernon" -- and even that was similar, but not_ this _close. This is close enough that your backbrain is not taking the hint and shutting up. Dammit._

_You'd really like it if your imaginary hunger pangs would stop distracting you from the FBI people who know your name and aren't surprised you can smell gunpowder._

_While you were failing to shut up your subconscious, the FBI agents have seated themselves. The woman speaks up. "We understand your high school had a few problems with exploding bananas." (You were introduced like five minutes ago, but when you try to think of her name all you can come up with is 'Chloe' and that's definitely not it. Maybe it sounds like 'Chloe'. Or she reminds you of your cousin Chloe, in some area other than age, looks, or job.)_

_"Uh," you say intelligently. "Um. Sort of. More splattering." Not enough K. Really disappointing, actually, but probably not the time to say that. "I think the police looked into it. If you're interested."_

_You try not to look at your banana peel, still on the table. It doesn't work very well._

_Todd leans forward. "Alberta, we're not interested in high school pranks."_

_"They were good pranks," the skinny guy adds quietly. (Skinny. Maybe he's anorexic?)_

_"Apart from a certain amount of artistic appreciation," Todd amends. "It's not our problem. As far as we're concerned it isn't a problem. What we're interested in is why the bananas exploded, and the chairs rusted."_

_You were prepared to deny the bananas. You've lied your way out of trouble before. But the rust -- you hadn't thought anyone had connected the rust to the bananas. Why would anyone accuse you (or anyone else) of causing Magic Overnight Aluminum Rust? But they are, they definitely are... "Um."_

_(At least it's not Magic Nitric Acid. Yet.) (You don't want to think about that.) (You really hate being nauseated and 'hungry' both at once.)_

_(The hunger-signal_ could _be coming from the skinny guy. Or maybe not. You're better at judging proximity than direction.)_

_They're all looking at you. "Uh." Possibly it's time to leave. You stand up, your chair skidding back. "I have a class--" Shit, you told more convincing lies when you were in elementary school._

_"You're not in trouble," the woman says, and you wonder if they have some sort of secret pass-the-conversation signal. "We're here to help."_

_(You've got it now, she reminds you a little of Chloe in a sort of, 'Don't mind me, I'll just sit here quietly in the corner with my head down_ watching everything you do and noting it for future reference _' way.)_

_"Believe it or not," Todd says wryly. "We're from the government, and we're here to help. But honestly, we have some questions we'd like to ask, but a lot more things you ought to know."_

_"We can't give you a full explanation for what makes you different," the skinny guy puts in, eyes on the table. "But we can give you something. We don't have all the answers, but..."_

_Oh._

_That's why it's even worse than with the anorexic girl. Whatever the hell you are, he's_ like _you, somehow. Not exactly. But close._

_"Okay," you say, and sit down. "Okay." You take a deep breath (C10H14N2, someone's not supposed to be doing that inside -- He, must be a party somewhere -- Fe7Si8O22 and some hydroxides, can't remember what that is but you don't think it should be here). "Only will you please eat something?"_

_He blinks at you, and you shrug uncomfortably. "You're making me hungry," you say. "_ Literally _."  
_

***

Citrinitas

Fred still had a key to the house. (He'd have gotten rid of it right after he moved out if it hadn't been for Alby, and he hadn't been able to figure out why his mother hadn't changed the locks. But he wasn't a teenager anymore, and they'd found a sort of equilibrium -- civility, at least, mostly -- and he'd eventually decided that cutting a child off would rub her even more the wrong way than... whatever it was she thought he was.) He didn't always let himself in without knocking, but since Lexy was the only one home (their mother was out of town again, and Alby's car wasn't in the driveway), and she'd be studying for midterms, he decided to aim for quiet.

He was not expecting to see Lexy and two strangers standing awkwardly in the (currently sofa-less) living room. Well, Lexy looked kind of awkward; the strangers seemed pretty relaxed. As far as he could tell -- he might have thought Lexy was relaxed if he didn't know her. Everyone turned to look as he stopped in the doorway to the front hall.

"Fred, you're early," Lexy said. She was wearing the smile he'd learned to interpret as 'camel who's spotted the last straw but is damned well going to _eat_ it!' and the tightness around her eyes that said 'if I weren't so inhibited I'd be throwing things'. "Good. These are Agents Stephen Reyes and Nicolette Lau, from the FBI. This is my brother Fred. If you'll excuse me, I have an important phone call." She gave him a Look he didn't recognize as she passed.

"Lexy--" he started, but too late -- she'd gone upstairs. Crap. Now what was he supposed to do? He gave the agents -- FBI agents in their living room, what the hell -- a weak smile. "Uh, hi. Fred Aldrich. But she said that."

Agent Lau offered a hand and a polished smile. She was very pretty, in a wearing-a-suit sort of way. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Aldrich."

He accepted the handshake, and the older man's. "Call me Fred. Everyone does. Ah..." He looked at where the sofa was supposed to be, then at the two remaining chairs, one of which was missing a cushion. "Sorry about the lack of seats. I'm not sure where that cushion went..."

"May I ask after the sofa?" Agent Lau asked, glancing down at the divots in the expensive carpet.

Fred grimaced. "Um. Yes. Something got spilled on it -- coffee, wine, I don't know, I don't live here anymore." He smiled nervously. "I, uh, I told my little sister once that going through a clumsy period in this house should count as charitable activity. Though honestly, considering the size of the sofa that was in here, I'm not sure anyone shopping at Goodwill would have anyplace to put it. Or maybe not Goodwill, the theater department got a free Persian rug with a wine stain, once..." And now he was babbling, and the FBI agents were giving each other Looks he couldn't read at all. Whyever the hell they were here. Ack. Dammit, Lexy... "I didn't catch why you were here...?"

"It's complicated," Agent Reyes replied, and Fred managed not to jump. "We should wait for everyone before explaining."

"Oh." That... _probably_ meant they weren't there to arrest anyone. Didn't it? Of course, Lexy'd been in a big hurry to go call... whoever. "Um, okay." _Dammit_ , Lexy!

Agent Lau politely ignored his floundering. "I understand you're the only one of your siblings not in school?"

"Um, yeah. I graduated, um, last year, and now I... I work as a bartender, mostly. I'd like to get into stuntwork," he added, then wondered if that made him seem even more pathetic. (It wasn't that there was anything wrong with his life, it was just that it _sounded_ bad when you explained it, especially standing in his mother's living room.) (Lexy and Alby might live in the house -- spend more time in the house, without business trips and the eighty-four-hour work week -- but the living room was his mother's. For one thing, as uptight as she could be sometimes Lexy would rather have a stained couch than no couch, and Alby wouldn't care.) (Actually, maybe standing in his mother's living room _didn't_ make his life sound more sad.)

"I see. Is that your graduation picture?" She nodded towards the line of framed photographs on the mantle.

"You're probably looking at my high school graduation. The family group?" His father was in that one, so it was there as a happy-family picture. Fred went over and peered behind the front row. "Yeah, here it is." He fished out his actual college graduation picture and held it out with a sheepish smile. "I skipped commencement, so this is me and my diploma and Lexy's graduation cap in front of the theater building."

"It's a good picture," Lau said, with a smile that went some way towards alleviating the effect of the suit.

"Photographer friend. I have a copy up in my apartment. I think Lexy put this in here -- I know for sure she did that one." He picked up the picture at the end of the mantle, in the bright red plastic frame. "This is standing in for my little sister's high school graduation picture." Alby stood flanked by Fred and Lexy, arms around their shoulders. She'd lost her cap sometime before the picture was taken, and was practically clobbering Lexy in the ear with her diploma.

"That's a good picture, too."

"Yeah." In a different way. It wasn't technically brilliant -- Chloe was not a photographer -- but all three of them were grinning. For real. It was probably the first happy-family picture that wasn't a lie taken since their father left.

For lack of anything else to talk about, he ran through the rest of the photos on the mantle, not caring if honest description made the family sound even weirder. Served Lexy right for stranding him here. Agent Lau listened with every appearance of interest. He couldn't tell if the other guy was paying attention.

"There seem to be quite a few of Alexandra..." Lau said, after he'd gotten all the way back through the picture of his mother and her sister as adorable little girls.

"Yeah, well, Lexy's perfect. Always has been. I think she's, like, the textbook oldest child." He shrugged. "As befits the middle kid, I'm a slacker. Alby's..." Ignored. "Alby gets away with anything."

More hard-to-interpret Looks. "That sounds rough on you."

"It had its benefits." He shrugged again, this time a little awkwardly. "On the other hand, I am the one who moved out and stayed out."

"You're here now."

"My mother's out of town." Should he have said that? Who the hell did Lexy need to call, anyway? Surely not a lawyer -- if she was calling a lawyer she would have _told_ him not to babble. Wouldn't she? "Business trip. We... don't get along very well." Come to think of it, she'd once ordered _him_ not to let police in unless he'd called them or they had a warrant. Did the FBI not count or something? Did they have a warrant? If so, why were they standing in the living room?

Movement outside caught his eye through the picture window. Chloe's car was now parked in the street, behind a vehicle which could only be described as _eggplant_. As he watched, Chloe got out, trying to juggle a backpack, laptop case, and cell phone. Huh. Chloe _never_ talked and drove. And he hadn't known she was coming over.

"Uh, hang on," he told the FBI agents. "I need to get the door for my cousin."

The weather was mild enough (damn global warming) that he could stand with the door open, halfway on the step, and listen to Chloe coming up the walk.

"--yes. I heard you the first hundred and ninety-seven times. Yes, I _know_. I already told you-- Wait, I forgot, I told my entire discussion section and assigned them to blog about it. No! Look, I'm at the house, I'm hanging up." She snapped the phone shut and shoved it rather emphatically into her coat pocket. "Thanks, Fred."

"Lexy was calling you?" Fred said, barely remembering to keep his voice down.

"Was she ever." Chloe lowered her backpack to the floor and dropped her coat on top of it. "I think she needs to practice her deep breathing."

"Yeah, if she's going to flip out everytime she runs into law enforcement, she might want to rethink her career. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"...Possibly."

But then they were in the living room, and Fred had to make introductions. They didn't seem at all surprised by Chloe's presence. Chloe was apparently nervous enough to more or less clam up. Fortunately, it wasn't long before Lexy _finally_ deigned to join the rest of the group.

"I talked to Alby," she announced. "She said she'd be here before long -- with the rest of your friends -- and that I should ask you to start the explanation, because it's too weird for her to attempt while driving."

Oh, of _course_ it had to do with Alby. Crap.

The FBI agents exchanged glances. "The first thing to understand," Agent Lau began, "is that no one is accused of having done anything wrong..."

Alby was right. It was really, really weird. Fred wasn't really convinced until Alby _did_ get home (three more FBI agents following in another eggplant-colored car), and presented her case. Neither Lexy nor Chloe were as surprised as Fred. They were going to have to talk about that.

They did finally move to the den, so everyone could sit down while talking and talking some more.

***

Aqua Fortis

_  
You tune out as soon as Lexy brings the legalese. They aren't planning on shipping you to Guantanamo Bay, which is really the immediately important thing, and you couldn't understand the conversation anyway. You're not sure if the other agents are following or pretending to, but Fred goes to get more coffee, and you notice Chloe's gotten really quiet._

_She's curled up in the corner armchair, hunched over her laptop, and she looks... not happy._

_You get up and wander very casually across the den to look over her shoulder. Unfortunately you block her light en route, so she has time to minimize whatever browser window was so disturbing. She still has about a zillion others up, though -- search results, newspaper online archives, blogs, something with an alien face at the top of the page. The window on top is now some sort of article about a string of bizarre murders in New York City._

_Oh._

_You_ asked _Chloe to look into it, slipped over while everyone else was tied up in the meet-and-greet. (Actual introductions were done, but Duke was being really harmless at Lexy, Agent Reyes and Agent Lau were on two different phone calls about how they'd have to leave town this evening instead of staying longer, and Fred was attempting to explain the lack of couch to Chaz and Daphne. You'd have gone with, 'Mom's a crazy bitch'.) If you want someone to chase references and names and themes across time and space and library stacks and servers, you want Chloe. She's a historian. That's what she does. So, obviously, she's the one to try to figure out what makes an 'anomalous crime' and how much exaggeration was going on._

_You reach for the laptop. Chloe starts to tug it back, but then pushes it at you and gets up. "Print whatever you want now," she says, voice funny. "I'm going to ritually purge my browser memory. Shame I can't do the same with my brain."_

_She leaves the room head down, hands stuffed in pockets, ignoring all the attention she's unfortunately attracted. You wonder where she's going. It's not like she's ever lived here, and no way is she leaving without her computer._

_Fred comes in with his coffee (decaf, but the expensive stuff) just as she leaves. "Did someone warn her to avoid the guest bathroom?"_

_You don't listen to Lexy's response. You're looking at what Chloe found. Mostly it's maybe-maybe-maybe-maybe -- search: life+imitates+horror+movie+FBI -- but there are a few definite ones. Year-old Facebook entry of a student at some college you've never heard of, giving some pretty clear descriptions of FBI agents in between discussion of the campus "going fucking CRAZY". Year before that, press conference (search: nicolette+lau+FBI) and news video from someplace in California. (You have to keep the machine on mute, but the people are unmistakeable.)_

_The window Chloe minimized when you came over is an article from some academic journal with a complicated title containing the word psychology, and she's accessed it through the university library. It takes a little work to interpret the gobbledygook, but it's about the same thing as the California video. It goes into a lot more detail._

_(Screaming.)_

_Chloe'll kill you if you drop her computer._

_"Alby?" Lexy's noticed_ you _going quiet. "What's wrong?"_

_You don't freeze up. You never freeze up. It doesn't help. You carefully get up and carry the computer over to the coffee table, where you set it down, facing away from Fred and Lexy. "You said_ unstable and dangerous _," you say, enunciating each word. "You said manifestations which hurt people. You didn't, you didn't say... you didn't say_ monsters _."_

_(He doubled over screaming, clawing at his jeans and just getting it on his hands, and the first thing you thought was_ Good. Got you. I hope it gelds you. _without caring you'd never heard anyone scream like that before--)_

_"What?" Lexy says, but all the FBI agents are looking at Chloe's laptop._

_"That was fast," Duke notes. He pulls the laptop closer._

_There's another conversation completely in looks, and then Daphne gets up and follows Chloe. Fred looks at you, looks at Lexy, looks at Reyes, and leaves, too._

_Good. Fred doesn't need to know about this. Fred is the nice guy. Bad enough Chloe knows, but if she freaks she'll be quiet about it._

_"Alby?" Lexy asks._

_"I asked Chloe to see if she could find anything about -- all this. She did. And it's nasty."_

_(Hiss of acid on skin, horrible whine of breath as lips blister and burn, hands swiping blindly at his face, his eyes, his_ eyes _\--)_

_"Did we know about that journal article?" Lau asks, but you doubt she's talking to you._

_"Yes, and it's about the what and the why without touching on the more unusual aspects of the how," Duke tells her. "Looks like the Sullivan student -- here -- graduated and is now in the same history program as Chloe. She must have known to go looking for this."_

_Lexy glowers at them. "Would you like to explain for the rest of the class?"_

_(Neither of them came back to school. You were glad. But then you still would never have wanted to see them ever again if -- if -- even if you'd gotten away earlier.)_

_Chaz closes his eyes. "Alby, we--_ You're _not a monster. You can't start thinking that. They're not you, you're not them. You're -- the same person you were yesterday, the same person you were a year ago--"_

_"I think I'm a_ better _person than I was a year ago. Explain that."_

_"No, you're a more mature person," Lexy says. "You had a -- a shock, and got more responsibility, and you grew up a bit. Nothing weird about that. The rest of this conversation, however--"_

_"They_ hurt people _," you say, and Lexy stills. "They do_ horrible _things to people. Weird, magic, horrible things."_

_"It's not -- not the same," Chaz says -- croaks, almost, and you wonder how much he believes it himself. "The -- same weapon could be used for, for serial killing or self-defense. It doesn't make them the same."_

_"Or it's just a tool," Lexy says tightly. "It doesn't have to be a weapon at all."_

_(Rusting the hinges was fun. De-spiking the punch was fun. Not-looking at molecular structure is... beautiful.)_

_"No," Duke says after a moment. "No, it doesn't."  
_

***

Ceration, under Sagittarius

It turned out it would take less time -- just -- to take a commuter flight to Cedar Rapids and drive the rest of the way than it would for the jet to come get them, so the van to the airport was the last chance they'd have for a while to talk without risk of eavesdroppers.

"Someone in Iowa City is drowning people in river water without getting them wet," Lau said. "All deaths have occurred during college football games, and the bodies have been found in a theater rendered unusable by flood damage."

"How... symbolic." Reyes frowned. "It's going to be difficult not to jump to conclusions on this, but we can't rule out everyone else because there are so many bitter arts students to look at." He paused. "And faculty."

"Faculty more than students," Todd said. "But, speaking of students -- Alby Aldrich. We have confirmed beta status, acquired more information on manifestation, and initiated communication. What else?"

"Convinced the family." Lau made a face. "Do we know if Lexy is in therapy? Because she should be."

"Alby suspects -- Alby was very happy to talk about her family -- supects she is, but doesn't know for sure. We talked around the acid incident. Dealt with excessive research and subsequent crises."

Chaz shifted, and turned from looking out the window. "She doesn't enjoy eating, mostly," he said softly. "A few things with texture, some spices are 'interesting', but mostly it's a chore. She's still alive because apparently the body produces specific chemicals when running low on fuel, and she somehow ended up conditioned to feel hungry -- feel a compulsion to eat -- whenever she detects those chemicals. This came up because she said I was making her hungry. Something similar has happened around people with eating disorders, but never quite that bad. Quite that close."

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed that.

"An anomaly sniffer?" Reyes said eventually.

Todd shrugged. "If she can do it consistently, which we do not know. The eating disorder aspect suggests it's not a strictly beta-to-beta thing, but not all gammas work the same way."

"And she's a very young eighteen."

 

***

Fixation, under Gemini

[Scribbled in a notebook while proctoring a History 1061 exam]  
 _  
Some interesting potential exam questions:_

_Which historical figure we've talked about is the biggest jerk? Support your answer._

_Choose any of your other classes, and use what you have learned there to formulate a historical question. For example, a physics student could ask how many of the basic ideas of physics were understood before being formulated  
Actually that may be too hard. Definitely too hard to grade._

_How would you go about starting a cult in early modern Europe?_

_Speculate._

_Bonus question: Tell me something I don't know._

_Discuss one thing you learned which contradicts a previously held belief, or which you would not have guessed to be true._

_\--Which obviously you're never too advanced for, e.g. new theory on folkloric monsters. And Countess Bathory._

_What would you look for in hist. search? Killing/hunger/ill health?_

_Killing/torture/etc -- no bordering, just trendy_  
\--during wars, who would notice? (true now!)  
\--witch hysteria -- occasional 'witch'? witch hunt-instigators? 

_Easy to go overboard blaming everything on ~~g~~ thingies. We  wish._

_Hunger -- difficult to deal with_  
\--obviously, wealthy are exception  
\-- hunting (something!)  
\--(Hunter-gatherers? Ice Age guy: "Og, that mammoth is supposed to be for everybody!" Og: MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH (hopefully on mammoth))  
\--"Charles, that roast ox is supposed to be for everybody!" Charles: MUNCH MUNCH homicidal rampage MUNCH 

_Ill health -- even trendier than killing (maybe not as much as hunger)_  
\--impossible to trace, really  
\--dying young? 

_Alexander the Great! "Alas, there are no more worlds to conquer and no more cities to take over so I can maim the inhabitants! Also my healthy Mediterranean diet contains too few calories to maintain my [powers related to conquering stuff], so lo! I die!" [thud]  
What would powers related to conquering stuff even be? easier to answer if I knew more about Hellenistic warfare._

_Rasputin -- too obvious? hard to kill, really weird  
Doctor House? (uncanny abilities, delights in causing pain...)_

_Spreading diseases_

_Medieval/Early Modern, witchcraft obvious mythology_  
Or, sainthood/given by god  
Quick measure of self-esteem: You live in medieval Europe and have acquired strange and (probably) terrible powers. You may or may not also be losing it and acquiring urges to KILL MAIM DESTROY. Do you conclude you are:  
(a) possessed  
(b) a witch in league with the devil  
(c) touched by God  
(d) some other kind of witch in a non-evil sense  
(e) imagining things  
(f) too busy going on homicidal rampage to think about it very much  
I think (b)-(c) equally dangerous -- both give license to do just about anything, conditional on (b)'s feelings on inevitability and (c)'s ability to rationalize. ("Evil! DESTROY!" [smashes random peasant/foreigner/relative/piece of statuary]) 

_~~Maybe guy who led burning down Library of Alexandria could stir up a mob?~~ Obviously he could stir up a mob! weirdness not required -- how sudden was mob? does anybody know?_

_Hellenistic warfare -- Greek fire???_

_Non-homicidal ones who didn't do anything spectacular probably starved in obscurity. That's really sad. Wealthy ones didn't starve to death in non-obscurity but also non-memorability._  
'If it bleeds, it leads'  
So is that worse or better than 'miscellaneous lord of remote fiefdom decides for whatever reason it's a good idea to torture and kill a bunch of his serfs, and  nobody ever knows (apart from serfs).  
Much easier for people to just disappear. 

_(Lord of remote fiefdom: "God's blood! I tortured and killed so many of my serfs that the rest ran away. Now there's nobody tending the crops or butchering the livestock to get... me... my... foooood..." [thud])_

_Lady of different remote fiefdom: "All my life I've been treated like a chattel, and now I've been as good as sold to this horrible brute of a husband. But now the saints have granted me the power to strike men dead. I know who I'm going to start with."_

_Random Sumerian: "Gilgamesh, that grain storehouse is supposed to be for everybody." Gilgamesh: "GILGAMESH SMASH!" munch munch munch..._

***

Magnum Opus, II

...Anything can be understood, given the right tools and the proper place to stand -- and the motivation. I have motivation. My place to stand has always been chemistry, and I've picked up a few tools here and there. What I need now is the rest of the foundation and the full set of tools. I need answers, but first I need to learn how to look for them.  
 _(Alberta Aldrich, Personal Statement, Application for Admission)_

***

Rubedo

It's four months before anyone mentions the theoretical potential usefulness of a theoretical gamma detector on a case. Two more before names are named. Late June, and someone in the Upper Peninsula actually eating brains, before bringing Alby in is seriously suggested. They identify a strong suspect later in the same conference, though, and by the time they're fishing the gamma out of Lake Michigan everyone's pretending the idea was never on the table.

If it does get to the point of bringing a teenage student with authority issues to consult on a federal investigation, though, Reyes knows what papers will have to be filed, what people will have to be consulted, and roughly what arguments to start with. He started working it out the same week they got back from Iowa. His conscience stings, and he tells himself that she'd want to help, that she's not really a kid, that she has her sister to look out for her interests.

He doesn't try to tell himself it'll never happen.

This job makes you desperate.


End file.
